


A Working Dinner

by Julibean19



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Coitus Interruptus, Don't Ask, Established Relationship, Lawyer Peter Hale, M/M, Office Sex, Power Dynamics, Unsafe Sex, and def don't judge me, fingering and pasta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9186416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julibean19/pseuds/Julibean19
Summary: "In the last twelve days, Stiles had seen Peter for a total of 7 hours, and those were mostly snatches between 2 and 5 a.m. when he crawled home to catch an hour of real sleep before heading back to work.  By 8 p.m. on Sunday, Stiles was itching for a fight, or at the very least an orgasm.  He slid into his tightest pair of jeans and sped to Peter’s office.  It was as busy as Stiles had ever seen it, lawyers and analysts buzzing around, taking calls, typing rapidly, or cursing at the printers.  Stiles almost felt bad for interrupting what was clearly a very tense time.  Almost, but not quite."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts), [Triangulum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triangulum/gifts), [Arabwel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arabwel/gifts), [Malapropian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malapropian/gifts), [TriscuitsandSoup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriscuitsandSoup/gifts).



> A little something for my friends over on the Steter Network, who got into a lively conversation after someone came across the tag "fingering and pasta" and needed to know more. Of course, this led to much speculation on our parts, and a challenge for everyone to write a fic that would include that tag. 
> 
> Much love to all my favorite little weirdos <3 I'm sorry if I forgot to tag you.
> 
> Unbetaed because there was no way in hell I was making anyone read this nonsense critically.

Stiles was going to kill him.  Literally.  

In the last twelve days, Stiles had seen Peter for a total of 7 hours, and those were mostly snatches between 2 and 5 a.m. when he crawled home to catch an hour of real sleep before heading back to work.  

In theory, Stiles knew that the corporate merger Peter was working on could only last so long and eventually his boyfriend would be back to his normal office schedule, with the frequent business calls at all hours that were the norm for someone in his position, but in reality?  It felt like the end would never come.  At first, he had been worried, sympathetic, and eager to spend whatever time with Peter he could, even in the wee hours of the morning, but by now?  Stiles was pissed.  

Beyond that, Stiles was desperate.  Twelve days without sex was a record for him and Peter.  Even with Peter’s demanding schedule they still managed to make time for each other every day, whether it was a quick blow job before dinner or a fuck during their morning shower.  To Stiles, twelve days felt like an eternity.

By 8 p.m. on Sunday, Stiles was itching for a fight, or at the very least an orgasm.  He slid into his tightest pair of jeans and sped to Peter’s office.  It was as busy as Stiles had ever seen it, lawyers and analysts buzzing around, taking calls, typing rapidly, or cursing at the printers.  Stiles almost felt bad for interrupting what was clearly a very tense time.  Almost, but not quite.  

The penis wanted what the penis wanted, and he was a man on a mission.

Storming past the preoccupied front desk attendant, Stiles moved swiftly, trying not to draw anyone’s attention.  Luckily everyone was much too focused on the merger to notice a determined Stiles dodging desk chairs and office staff on the way to Peter’s large corner office.  Erica’s desk was empty.  

Stiles let out a sigh of relief, knowing he didn’t have to talk his way past her and in to see Peter.  Pressing his ear against the closed door, Stiles could hear his boyfriend barking in Japanese to whoever was on the other end of the phone.  Without a second thought, Stiles turned the handle and slipped inside, closing the door behind him.  

It was a testament to how seriously Peter was focused that he didn’t even look up when the door opened.  Feet propped up on the desk, eyes closed, still speaking rapidly in a foreign language, Peter looked every inch the CLO that he was.  Stiles bit his lip, more than a little turned on by the sight.  He was thirsty and he knew it.  Clearing his throat, Stiles strode forward, startling Peter enough that he nearly fell over.  His rolling desk chair slipped out from under him, feet falling to the floor with the thump of leather on carpet.   

Eyes wide, Peter stopped speaking abruptly, causing the person on the other end of the phone to start shouting, checking if he was still there.  He spoke a few words into the phone and then ended the call, still staring at Stiles.  

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Peter groaned, like catching a glimpse of his boyfriend after a long day physically pained him.  “What are you doing here?  They’re going to call back any second.”

Stiles grinned, waggling his eyebrows.  “What do you think I’m here for?  It isn’t fucking Japanese lessons, I can tell you that much.”

“I do not have the time for sex right now,” Peter said, sighing and rubbing at his forehead.  “You know better.”

“Don’t lecture me,” Stiles snapped back, walking around the side of Peter’s desk to crowd into his space.  “It’s been twelve days.  Any longer and I’ll be hitting the streets, looking for it elsewhere,” he said, lips twisting as he teased Peter into action.  

Just as he expected, Peter’s hands shot out to grab Stiles by the hips.  Peter didn’t need to pull, Stiles was already climbing into his lap, straddling him.  

“You wouldn’t dare,” Peter hissed into his ear, teeth clenched tight as Stiles ground down into his rapidly rising erection.  

“You’re right,” Stiles said, wasting no time in mouthing up the side of Peter’s throat, pulling his tie free.  “I wouldn’t.  But that sure got your attention, didn’t it?”

Peter let out a tiny moan when Stiles reached the particularly sensitive spot behind his ear.  Then the phone rang.  “I have to get that,” Peter whined, wishing he had the willpower to push Stiles’ hands away as they went for his belt.  

“Then answer it,” Stiles dared him, continuing to undress Peter as the man reached around him to grab the phone.  “I’ll just be here, getting what I need.  You won’t even notice, promise.”

Peter didn’t even bother answering him, just raised his eyebrows at Stiles and huffed out an exasperated exhale.  “Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, rolling his eyes as he brought the phone to his ear and began arguing in Japanese again.  Stiles had no idea what they were saying, but it was obvious by the tone of Peter’s voice that things weren’t going his way in their negotiations.

Stiles got his belt open and then began work on Peter’s dress pants, letting out little frustrated noises when his fingers slipped on the metal clasps.  “Fucking complicated fancy pants.  What’s wrong with normal buttons?” he muttered under his breath, pausing in his mission to rid himself of his own clothing.  It had been so long since Stiles had felt Peter’s hands on his skin that he stripped fully, kicking his shoes off and rolling off his socks.  

Rolling his eyes again, Peter continued on with his conversation, sighing in relief when the speaker changed he could switch back to English.  “That’s not what we agreed on, Hayashi, and you damn well know it.  I don’t know why you insist on throwing your useless assistant at me to fight your battles, but it’s never going to work.  I’m not a patient man and you are getting on my last nerve,” he said, glancing back up to Stiles, who was now rummaging through his desk drawers, searching for lube.

After four unsuccessful attempts, he finally came up with a mostly full bottle and took Peter’s free hand, squeezing a stripe onto the man’s first two fingers.  He bent himself over the desk, letting Peter slide his chair into position behind him while he faced the door, trying to remember if he had locked it or not.  

Stiles grabbed his own ass and pulled his cheeks apart, trying to get more of Peter’s attention as the man continued arguing over the phone.  When he felt Peter’s clean hand press down on his lower back, Stiles bent over further, putting his chest across the blotter and reaching to curl his long fingers over the opposite edge.  “What are you waiting for?” Stiles asked, wiggling his backside.  

Hayashi seemed to go on a bit of a tirade after that and Peter let him, humming at what must have been appropriate intervals as he rubbed at Stiles’ hole with one slippery finger.  Stiles whined as he was breached for the first time in what felt like forever.  Peter wasn’t proud to admit that the sound made his body own finally realize how long it had been as well.  Diving for the phone’s mute button, Peter teased, “you know, if you wanted this to go faster, you could have prepped yourself before you got here… put in a plug or something.  I’m a very busy man, Stiles.”

“I honestly hadn’t thought of that,” Stiles whined softly when Peter unmuted his phone and again, spoke tersely in Japanese.  “But I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

“There’s not going to  _ be _ a next time,” Peter grumbled, tapping the mute button again as he slid a second finger into Stiles, a shiver of pleasure running through his own body when he felt the hot clench.  “There shouldn’t even be a  _ this _ time!”

“I dare you to stop,” Stiles said into the wooden desktop, canting his hips up a little higher until Peter hit the right spot.  Peter groaned, half exasperated by Stiles’ antics, half aroused.  He should have stopped really, sent Stiles on his way, but he couldn’t help himself.  Twelve days  _ had  _ been a long time, and now that Stiles was here, naked and draped across his desk, the wait was finally catching up to him.  

In the end, Peter didn’t stop, merely carried on stretching out his boyfriend’s ass while he negotiated the contract’s terms.  “No, don’t even try, Hayashi,” he said, voice stern and loud.  “We said 20% in the first year, 23% in the second year, and up 5% increments after that for the next three years,” Peter said heavily, like he had already made this point a thousand times.  

Stiles couldn’t help but be turned on by the authority in his voice.  When he felt stretched, he arched his back and got off the desk, waiting for Peter to finish opening his now-straining pants and push his underwear down until his balls were free.  Peter hated to get lube on his clothes, and Stiles shook his head at his boyfriend’s attention to fastidiousness, even during a quickie.  

“You can argue down all you want, but that was our final offer and we’ll be walking away if it’s not accepted,” Peter said, swallowing back his moan when Stiles sunk down onto his cock, seating himself in Peter’s lap with his back to Peter’s chest.  It had been too long, and even distracted as he was by the call, Peter knew he wasn’t going to last.  

“We both know how much money you’ve already sunken into this deal, and we both know that you can’t afford to find another bid, so why don’t you tell Matsuoka to suck it the fuck up and send me the papers already?”  Peter growled, jerking his hips upward, hoping the slick sliding noise and his heavy breathing weren’t audible over the phone.  Stiles gasped on a particularly hard downstroke and the sound almost ended Peter right then and there.  

“Doumo arigatou gozaimasu,” Peter said sarcastically before slamming the phone down on the receiver.  Finally free to use both of his hands properly, he wasted no time in pushing down on Stiles’ hips and ramming into him, spurred on by the heavy pants and moans Stiles was letting out.

“You’re so hot when you’re in lawyer mode,” Stiles breathed, reaching for the arms of Peter’s desk chair so he could get some leverage.  

The chair creaked ominously as Peter replied, “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.  They’re going to keep calling, so we’re going to have to be quick,” he said, hoping the chair wouldn’t break before they were done.  

“Almost,” Stiles sighed, leaning back so Peter could suck on his throat as they sped toward a quick climax.  

_ Knock, knock. _

They froze, and Peter made the split-second decision to practically toss Stiles off his lap and under his desk as the door opened to reveal his assistant Erica, holding a takeout container and a bottle of Pellegrino.  He rolled his chair forward, hoping he was hiding his erection and the fact that his pants were wide open.   Eyes darting around the room for any evidence, Peter found that Stiles clothes were in a pile behind his desk, out of Erica’s sight.

“I know you’re busy, but you need to eat,” she said, placing the container on Peter’s desk blotter and unwrapping a set of disposable cutlery.  

“Thanks, that will be all,” Peter said quickly, startling when Stiles grabbed his left hand and brought it to what felt like a very familiar place, still slick, wide open, and warm.  He used his right hand to wipe the sweat off his forehead and gesture for Erica to leave.  “Close the door behind you, please.”

“Not so fast,” Erica said, hands on her hips.  

Stiles must have been on his knees under the desk, because he seemed to have no trouble in sliding himself backward onto Peter’s fingers, prompting him to fingerbang him to his lost climax.  Peter had no idea how he fit under there, but he didn’t really have time to imagine what position his boyfriend was in.  He needed to get rid of Erica.  

“What do you want?” Peter snapped, moving his fingers in what he hoped were small enough motions that she wouldn’t notice.  

“Martino’s has screwed up your order the last two nights in a row and I’m not going to have you chew me out again over fucking pasta.  Make sure that it’s okay before I leave,” she insisted, cocking her head to the side and raising her eyebrows.  

“I’m sure it’s fine, Erica,” Peter said, sighing as he opened the takeout container with one hand and glanced at it.  “See?” he said, licking his lips when he heard a tiny, almost imperceptible moan come from below his desk when he crooked his fingers just right.  

“Taste it,” Erica ordered.  In that moment, Peter wondered why he had ever hired her.  She bossed him around more than he did her.  “Last time it was cold and you made me get you another one.  I’m like a pariah over there now.”

“Seriously?” Peter said, voice firm.  As sexy Stiles seemed to find his authority, Peter couldn’t even get his own assistant to leave him the fuck alone.  It was embarrassing.

“I’m waiting,” Erica said, tapping the toe of her black pump on the carpet.

“What are you, my mother?” Peter groaned, pulling the container closer to him and picking up the fork.  Stiles tightened around his fingers, and Peter coughed, trying to cover the pleased sound that came from under his desk.  He stabbed at the penne, noticing that the vodka sauce was steaming hot, the way it should have been yesterday when he made Erica get him another one, and took a bite.  

“Mmm,” he moaned, exaggeratedly, overacting the shit out of his enjoyment of his dinner.  “Perfect.  Now get out.”

“You have to eat it all,” Erica said, crossing her arms.  “No more phone calls until you’ve eaten or you’ll pass out before you make it home to Stiles later tonight.”

Peter shoveled pasta into his mouth, chewing loudly and moaning to cover the whispered, “you’ve got to be kidding me,” that he heard coming from Stiles.  He thrust his fingers even harder, twisting them roughly, warning Stiles to keep his mouth shut until he could get Erica out of the room.  

When Erica still didn’t make any move to leave, Peter continued to eat.  Stiles thrust back hard onto his fingers, getting more and more frustrated.  Peter stilled his left hand entirely while he focused on actually getting the fork into his mouth.  

It was Stiles’ fault he was under the desk in the first place, interrupting him while he was at work, distracting him.  It had been his idea to barge in and demand sex and Peter had just realized that he could make Stiles pay for his brashness right here and right now.  Lips twisting, Peter slowed down, taking his time as he chewed each piece of pasta individually, pausing to wipe his mouth with his napkin every few bites.  Realizing that Peter had no intention of moving his hand again, Stiles whimpered and moved his own body, fucking himself on Peter’s stationary fingers.  

“What are you so happy about?” Erica asked as Peter continued to smirk around a bite of penne.  

“Oh nothing,” Peter drawled, grinning when Stiles’ hips sped up.  “I think Matsuoka will finally be giving in soon,” Peter mused, taking another bite of pasta as Stiles sped up, thrusting back onto his finger at double the pace as before.  “You know how I like it when they beg,” he told her, smiling to himself as he continued eating.  

“Thank God,” Erica said, tossing her head back as if addressing the heavens.  “I don’t think I can take another night here.  Boyd’s already pissed at me as it is.”

“I know the feeling,” Peter said, placidly poking his fork through a few more pieces of penne as he felt Stiles shiver around his fingers, clearly having trouble finding the right angle now that he was the only active participant.  

He let it go on for a few more minutes, taking his time eating as Erica babbled to him about how much her feet hurt and how Peter was going to have to bribe the manager at Martino’s for clemency if he ever sent his food back there again.  Stiles was getting desperate, shakes wracking his body as he tried and failed to edge Peter back toward his prostate.  Peter couldn’t help but smile knowing Stiles still needed him to get off, even though the man was as desperate for release as he’d probably ever been in his life.  

“I’m going to need a good, hard fuck after this deal is finally done,” Erica said.  Peter practically choked on his pasta at the way Stiles’ body clenched down when she said  _ fuck _ .  He coughed, looking longingly at the bottle of sparkling water that he had no way of opening with one hand.  

Erica sighed, grabbing the bottle and twisting the cap off for him.  “And you ask why I act like your mother?” she huffed, eyebrows raised as Peter gulped the drink down.  He had pulled his fingers out of Stiles without realizing, and the man whined, causing Peter to slam the bottle down on the desk to cover the noise.  

“You are too good to me,” Peter teased as Stiles found his fingers again and pushed back onto him, more fervent than ever.  He wondered what else he could say that might push Stiles over the edge.  “How is Boyd in the sack?” he questioned, tone light.  “I’ve always wondered.”

“Well,” Erica said, smiling wolfishly, “if you must know…”

“I must,” Peter said, smirking as he gathered up his last bite of penne.

“His dick is ten inches and he comes buckets,” she gushed, tapping her cheek with one finger, pretending to think hard about her answer.  Stiles quivered around Peter’s fingers.  Peter licked his lips and dabbed at his mouth with his napkin.  “And sometimes he likes when I fuck him with my strap-on,” she added playfully as Peter crooked his finger ever so slightly and felt Stiles orgasm, pulsing as he let out an audible groan.  

Peter coughed again, tapping his fingernails against the desk, doing whatever he could to make sure Erica didn’t hear Stiles come.  “Fascinating,” Peter drawled.  Really, it was, and he would love to hear more about Erica pegging Boyd, but he had more important things to be doing.  

“All done,” he said, tilting the empty takeout container toward her.  “You can go mother hen someone else now,” Peter added, taking another gulp of water while Stiles slid off his fingers and turned around to grip his calf.

“Fine, fine,” Erica said, tossing her hair to the side so it fell behind her shoulder.  “I’ll go make sure the interns haven’t jammed the red line printer again.  Let me know when you finally make Matsuoka cry and we can get out of here.”

“Sure,” Peter said, “lock the door behind you.”

Erica rolled her eyes, but complied, pushing the button on the doorknob before exiting.  

“Talk about a working lunch,” Peter said, mostly to himself, as he listened to Erica walk away from the door.  “More like a working dinner, I suppose.”

“You fucking asshole,” Stiles growled, pushing Peter’s rolling chair backward until he could escape.  “I can’t believe you made me do that.”

“I didn’t  _ make _ you do anything, darling,” Peter leered, liking the sight of a naked Stiles on his knees in front of him.  He had lost his erection some time ago, but it seemed to be gaining interest again.  “You’re the one that barged in here and took your clothes off.”

Stiles pouted but knew he didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  

“You’re also the one who forgot to lock the door,” Peter added, smiling broadly when he noticed that Stiles’ hands were clean, meaning he hadn’t been jerking off when he came.  There was probably a puddle on the carpet under his desk.

“That doesn’t mean you should have a dinner chat with your assistant while I’m fucking naked!” Stiles protested.  

Peter also noticed that Stiles was still on his knees and hadn’t made any move to get dressed, which probably meant he planned to continue their encounter.  “Admit it,” he said, tone darkening as he egged Stiles on, “you liked it.  You got off knowing she was in here, knowing you could get caught.   _ You _ kept going.”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue but couldn’t think of anything to say.  He bit his lower lip, and Peter knew that he had won.  “I didn’t think I would, but maybe I did.”

“And did you like listening to her talk, too?” he asked, already knowing the answer.  

“No—I mean yes…” Stiles corrected himself, letting out a breath before he spoke again.  “It just kind of helped me fantasize a bit.  About you,” he said, hoping Peter understood.  “I don’t want to watch them fuck or anything,” he tried again.  “It was more the getting caught thing I think… and the power trip.”

“Ahh, I see,” Peter hummed, understanding perfectly.  “The office.  The authority.  The demands.  That’s what you like?” he asked, just to be certain, reaching a hand down to stroke his cock, drawing Stiles’ attention to it.  

Stiles nodded, licking his lips as he stared, lips parted slightly.  

Peter’s phone rang, but this time it was Erica on the intercom.  “Hayashi on line one,” she said, voice tinny and overloud.  

Peter raised his eyebrows, looked down at his dick and then quickly back up to Stiles.  

Rolling his eyes, Stiles exhaled saying, “go ahead and answer it.”

Peter grinned and then picked up the phone, not bothering to greet the man before he said, “I’m not talking to you again.  You’ll get Matsuoka on the line in thirty seconds or I’m pulling the deal.”  He covered the receiver and gave Stiles a stern look.  “It’s not going to suck itself,” Peter barked with the barest hint of amusement in his voice.  

Flushing brightly when Peter pointed impatiently at his cock, Stiles moved forward quickly.  He steadied himself with both hands on Peter’s thighs and lowered his head, taking the man into his mouth all too eagerly.  

“Shall I count for you?” Peter asked the man on the phone.  “You’ve got twelve seconds left.”  

Stiles groaned around his cock and dropped a hand to his own lap.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't judge me :P Read my other stuff if you want something serious!


End file.
